Meaning of Madness
by That Dastard Cerberus
Summary: After defeating Chaos, the Warrior of Light finds himself lost on the path he once fought towards. An encounter with a creature soon shatters the eerie calm, and he embarks on a quest alongside old allies to stop the monster. At the same, he must battle the growing darkness inside him, one that threatens not just his friends and his sanity, but his very existence.
1. Prologue: Madness

**A little note from Cecil Kain Cerberus:** **When I started _Meaningless Existence_, I wanted this story to be the best Dissidia story ever. Ambitious goal, unaccomplishable, yet it doesn't stop me from trying. That's what dreams are for, anyway ;)**

**But as I looked at stories written by others, like ObsessiveCompulsive-Valkyrie and Poisonberries, I thought . . . "Gee, what am I doing in a room full of professionals? Who am I kidding? There's no way I can get to their level."**

**Well, you can guess what happened next. I'm still here, aren't I? So, after reading _The Door of Souls_ by Poisonberries (wonderful fic, in my humble opinion), I was inspired to write better. Several shows and novels helped me form the proper path I needed to take for this story. Instead of remaking_ Meaningless Existence_, I simply rewrote the chapters and then worked from there. I just hope this works better than in my head -_-'**

**Title**: Meaningless Existence

**Author**: Cecil Kain Cerberus

**Characters (central focus)**: Warrior of Light, Lightning, Kain Highwind, Prishe, Vaan, Terra Branford, Bartz Klauser, Yuna, Tidus, Tifa Lockhart, Cloud Strife, Laguna Loire

**Rating**: M, for blood, gore, sexual themes and hints, and violence.

**Warnings for the reader: **Spoilers. Lots of them. You've been warned. Also the rating should be a tall-tell sign.

**Setting**: After cycle 013 and Cid's nightmare, Final Fantasy 1, II, III, V, VI, VII Advent Children, VIII, IX, X-2 International, XII, XIII, during Final Fantasy IV Interlude, beginning before XIII-2 and Dirge of Cerberus.

**Summary**: The Warrior of Light has no past, no name or home to call his own. His origins are a mystery to him, yet he would not allow such trivial things get in his way to fight for the Light. Now, however, with Chaos gone, he finds himself thinking too much, questioning things too deeply. So when a beast attacks Cornelia, he welcomes the distraction as a salvation from himself, a purpose given to him again. Unfortunately for him, though, this new path will lead him and his comrades into a world full of chaos and madness. A world which no one can return from.

**Length:** If everything goes according to plan (which may not happen), let's say between 20 to 25 chapters. If not, we shoot for 12 to 50.

**Genre****: **Horror, Action, Adventure, (Final) Fantasy, with some romance on top.

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing. Square-Enix does. But if I did . . . well, let's just say some people would lose their sanity, while others would . . . erm . . . yeah.

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><p><strong><em>-::Meaningless Existence::-<em>**

**_-:Prologue – Madness:-_**

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><p><em>"mad·ness  __ˈ__madn__ə__s/  
>n.<em>

_1. State of being mentally ill; insane_

_2. Senseless folly; extremely foolish behavior_

_3. Frenzy; rage._

_4. Intense excitement or enthusiasm"_

- combined definition of madness

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><p>Madness. Insanity. Senselessness. Lunacy. Psychosis.<p>

A compulsion of no logic, an obsession that consumes without reason.

Repetitive actions with no ending, no meaning, no truth.

Chaos, destruction, death.

Is this madness?

A denial of truth?

A renegade of existence?

No.

It doesn't matter what madness is.

It just is.

It exists.

Just as we all do.

And it will disappear.

Just like us.

What is truth?

What is existence?

Does it matter?

Why does it matter?

We are born, and then die.

Why bother with trivial things?

Why think?

Why feel?

Why exist?

Chaos is all around us.

Madness lives in us.

We are everything, yet we are nothing.

Devil, God, Monster, Hero.

All pointless names. What do they mean?

Nothing.

Absolutely nothing.

It is pointless.

Everything is pointless.

Pain, memories, love, hate.

Nothing matters.

Just is.

Exist.

Erase.

Reborn.

Kill again.

Madness.

Nothing but madness.

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><p>The earth gave a mighty rumble. The volcanos roared, hot lava boiling over the rims, with ashen-filled smoke cloaking the burning, red sky like giant, black wings.<p>

The beast had no more time. No more strength. Its limbs were falling apart, rotten flesh tearing as black blood pooled onto the terrain under its clawed feet. Bones melted, muscles torn, everything falling apart. Scales lacking of luster, horns broken and bent, wings collapsed.

It was nearing the end of its life.

Soon it would be no more.

And yet the Warrior of Light, a noble knight that feared no one and gallantly faced any foe, wielding only a sword and shield, could only watch in an amalgam of emotions, sensing both the numbness of skepticism and the freeing sensation of respite.

It was over.

Chaos had been defeated.

Life, existence, the future.

It was all saved.

The nameless man with no home had done the impossible with the aid of his comrades. Traveling to the past, 2000 years ago, seeking out the monster known as Chaos, once a knight named Garland of Cornelia, the start of their adventures together.

As Chaos faded, the last of its molecules scattering like sand in the wind, the Warrior's body felt unfamiliar all of a sudden. It was hard to describe, as he followed his friends back through the wormhole that had brought them to this unforgiving time. This feeling was new, foreign, and it puzzled the Warrior, even as their memories were cleared, the defeat of Chaos fading, only vapor drifting liberally through the currents of time.

The Warrior and his comrades stood where he had first begun his journey, an emerald hill rolling gracefully down to the magnificent Castle Cornelia, gay noises echoing from the town under its massive shadow. It was as if the conflict had never happened. No longer were they under any threat of attack, no longer was the world oppressed by fiends of nature.

The four turned to each other. It was time to bind farewell. Even though their memories were gone, details vanished, the writing was still there, erased but embedded into the parchment. They would not forget that feeling of victory. The dawn that appeared moments after the Tyrant of Darkness fell.

Yes, that feeling was still in the Warrior's chest as he watched his fellow warriors depart. That familiar sense of amity, one he had promised to an ally some time ago, in a distance world, to never forget.

Yet, as he felt this sensation, he also felt that strange sense.

No, it was not foreboding.

More along the lines of . . . dissatisfaction?

No, that wasn't quite right. As he walked down the hill, returning to Cornelia to begin anew, he pondered over such a feeling.

It was not disappointment; no, he was pleased over their victory over the darkness.

It was not fear, for he knew there would be no more darkness to harm the innocents here in this peaceful sanctum.

Whatever this feeling was, it wasn't pleasant. Perhaps this feeling would leave him once he reached the castle. Perhaps something novel would release him from this.

A new beginning, a new millennium was upon him. He should be feeling the fruits of victory in his heart, the battle cries of war fading like a distant memory, a wave long since crashed upon the shore, washing away the footprints left behind.

But nay, he could not. For something ached deep within him, a feeling he could not yet fathom nor comprehend. And as he stood before the great castle walls, pillars made of marble and limestone towering before him, the feeling persisted, gnawing on his very soul.

However, the feelings he sensed were something of common nature among man.

A man who exists will stare upon the stars and make a wish.

A wish for something more.

Man consumes all, yet is never satisfied.

He will watch his comrades die, yet he will find new ones.

And still wish upon that lonely star in the sky.

Praying for something beyond the plain he stands in, pleading for a change to take him.

He seeks knowledge, desiring to learn more.

He will question everything, deny everything, and yet accept everything.

He will love life, and yet willingly take life away.

He wishes for safety, and yet calls for fatal adventure.

A hypocrite.

That is what man is.

It is in his nature.

Question everything, wish for everything, hate everything.

And never see the truth that is set before him.


	2. Ch I: The Agitations of a Knight

**Another pointless Author's note****: So here I am, rewriting Chapter I, technically Chapter II, and I'm wondering . . . how can I make this chapter better? Besides correcting any grammar problems, of course. So I figured, 'Eh, why not go into the Warrior's head even further than what I did before? I mean, come on. The guy's got to have a lot on his mind. He's the freaking Warrior of Light, for crying out loud! Gotta be something to how and why he behaves the way he does.'**

**And so I give you Chapter I: Agitations of a Knight.**

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><p><strong><em>-::Meaningless Existence::-<em>**

**_-:Chapter I – The Agitations of a Knight:-_**

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><p>A week had passed since the defeat of Chaos. The world was truly at peace. The sun burned a magnificent white, a hot globe floating in the endless sky. The songbirds played their melodies, stable in their sycamore trees. The grass was greener, the ocean bluer, the land ripe with riches and wonder.<p>

Of course, not everything was perfect. The day the Warrior entered the joyous town, the city crier was announcing some hoodlum goblins had kidnapped the King's younger daughter. The Warrior had remembered the cheeky, little girl, who took pride in wandering the castle walls, looking for adventure. Perhaps that was how the girl had been snatched, since goblins, as dumb as they were, had a knack for sneaking into small places, something the young princess was also known well to do.

The Warrior had not waited for any further information. His heart giving a slight skip, he raced towards where the goblins were lasted seen. From there, he tracked down the Cretans and easily struck them down where they stood. News of his victory reached the castle, and the next thing the Warrior knew, he was being hailed into Cornelia as a hero.

But rewards and fame mattered not to the nameless harbinger of light. For him, the greatest reward was serving the Light, aiding people in need.

This all happened in a week. Now, the Warrior of Light rose up early in the morning, the sun still lazily creeping over the horizon. Only dressed in his dark undershirt and pants, the Warrior took his time, leaning up against the windowsill and observing the morning light.

He had never felt this kind of calm before. It seemed . . . peaceful, relaxing. Most people would find this quiet enjoyable, liberating of the trials the world had yet to offer.

But to the nameless Warrior of Light, it felt foreign, strange . . . threatening. Like a fish out of world, in this new world of peace where he only knew strife and violence. He fought to end the conflict, and yet here he was, wishing for it to continue. This new feeling of peace was unsettling to him, making him anxious and edgy.

As he walked the morning lit corridors, he was tense, listening to any and every sound. Yet everywhere he turned, there was no danger, no sign of a threat.

His patrol, if wandering aimlessly through the castle early in the morning searching for possible threats can be called that, took him finally outside the stone walls of the castle and onto the wide, wooden drawbridge that filled the gap made by the moat below.

Pausing, the Warrior looked at the burning red sky once more and remembered the words of advice given to him by one of his fellow Warriors.

_"Red in the morning sailors take warning. Red at night sailors' delight."_

He had never truly understood the phrase until he had seen its fruition, where he and his allies had to take shelter from a storm. Observing the sky carefully, he watched for the large thunderhead he had come to associate with storms. Seeing nothing out of the ordinary, he heard a voice calling him, and he turned around to see a familiar face.

Her green hair framing her gentle face, the Princess of Cornelia, Sarah, gave the Warrior a friendly smile. "How are you doing today, sir?" she asked sweetly. The Warrior stared at her a few seconds before turning his face to glance over his shoulder. Still nothing.

"I am well," he replied. "You?"

"As well as a song bird singing its finest tone," she replied, to which the nameless knight arched an eyebrow in question. Giggling gently, Sarah waved her hand dismissively. "You are certainly a strange one, my friend. To think you came to this castle with no memories and little understanding of this place." She paused, looking now at him with sad eyes. "Have you remembered anything yet?"

The Warrior shook his head. "Nothing. However, it is not a concern for one such as yourself, Princess. Believe me when I speak this truth; those lost memories hold no restraints on me."

"Still," the Princess stated, "what if you had a family, friends, somewhere out there waiting for your return? They must be worried sick for you."

"And I might have nothing waiting for me," he responded. He placed a reassuring hand on her small shoulder. "Please, do not waste your worries on a nameless man. I have no fear for what my past held, nor any fear for the future."

Sarah sighed. "Very well. If you insist." She twirled around, her white dress floating around her frame. She took a few steps before stopping, turning and looking at the Warrior. "By the way, my father and mother have invited you to a banquet later this evening. They wish to thank you publically for rescuing my sister from those horrid goblins."

"Then please tell them I thank them and accept their gracious invitation." To this, the Princess smiled and ran off, the wind once more catching her dress and hair.

Strands of silver hair blowing past him, the Warrior then continued back the way he came, his mind slightly numb. He could not understand this feeling of peace like everyone else. They all seemed so cheerful, so carefree. He had remembered the faces of his fellow warriors before they split ways. Each looked so relieved to be returning home, to where their regained memories beckoned them. But for the Warrior, there was no such beckoning. All he had left for his past still was the faintest whisper of a name, he was sure, perhaps his own. And he hung onto that piece with everything he had, all his life, all his strength, willing it to reveal its true nature to him.

Yes, he had lied to Sarah. He had fears of what the past withheld from him. Was he a knight gone rogue, or a simple man with a simple life waiting for him? Was he a warrior from a destructive kingdom, a slave looking for freedom, a man looking for redemption?

He knew not. He was confident that his past wasn't drenched in darkness and evil, but still, the unknown kept him from sleeping peacefully at night. Everyone he knew who had lost their memories had regained them one way or another. Yet he had nothing to show, nothing gained.

He was beginning to worry that there was nothing there to begin with.

Shaking his head, he returned to his room, dressed himself in his Knight class armor, and went to the training grounds. The King had given him full use of the field, as his prowess had been seen just a week ago when he had rescued Sarah's younger sister from the horde of goblins. A few trouble-makers had made their way through the kingdom since then, but the Warrior of Light had dispatched of each of them quickly and easily. Now everyone regarded him as not just a nameless knight but a hero among their ranks. He had even heard rumors in the castle that the King was going to ask him to take his eldest daughter's hand in marriage.

But none of that mattered for the Warrior. As he drilled himself, swinging his sword through the air at imaginary foes, he felt an ache for something more. This peace was too daunting for a man such as himself. He found himself thinking too much, pondering too deeply. Such thoughts had never appeared while fighting for Cosmos. But now with all this time, he couldn't help but question and puzzle over everything.

Questions like, where did he come from? Where was his home? Did he even have one to return to?

Was he banished? Was he an apostate? A vagrant?

What were his roots? A simple farmer? A son of somebody? A noble? An officer in some military?

And his name. What of his name? Why didn't it come to him like a bird taking flight? Sure, the boy known only by his title of the Onion Knight had no recollection of his name, yet he had some memories, some part of him that he did remember from the past.

Yet the Warrior had nothing. Nothing at all to show for anything he had once. It was as if the universe wished to torture him, mock him for his loss, tease him relentless until he broke.

By the standards of his comrades, he was dubbed a deep thinker. But this position bothered the Warrior, for his stance as a deep thinker permitted his mind to go places he dared not wish to find himself. With this in mind, he swung harder and longer, hoping to lose himself in training, to abandon his woes and just be the sword.

However, several minutes of this did not aid him. In fact, he found himself growing increasing frustrated the longer and harder he tried to fight these dark thoughts. Finally, unable to take it anymore, he cried out and stabbed his sword into the ground.

Grinding his teeth as the anger began to bubble deep within him, he felt something beginning to awaken. A beast once sleeping, but had now begun to stir. He felt it rise within him as his anguish grew, and just when he felt ready to burst with rage, yet another voice broke through to him.

It was a soldier, a young one by his appearance. He approached, stopping only a few yards away with a wary look on his face. Realizing his anger must be showing, the Warrior regained his stoic presence and straightened his posture, hoping he looked less intimating. "Yes? Can I help you?"

The soldier shifted a bit, still looking nervous. "Well, sir, you just looked a little . . ." He quickly glanced around before leaning forward a bit, as if sharing a deep, dark secret. "Heated."

The Warrior sighed inwardly as he outwardly gave the soldier a shake of the head. "Be at ease. I am fine."

"Very well." The soldier began to backtrack before turning and leaving. But before he was out of eyeshot, he looked once more over his shoulder, then left.

And the Warrior was alone again. In more ways than one.

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><p>The sun was beginning to set when the Warrior finally returned to his room. The sky had taken on an amber-like tone, the clouds orange in the light.<p>

It was such a marvel, the Warrior thought, to see such a similar sky, yet under drastic circumstances. He knew he had seen similar skies before, however, there always lingered a pang of fear, an unforeseen villain waiting in the shadows.

The banquet was drawing nearer. The Warrior knew he had to get ready, but he had no understanding of how to present himself or behave under these pretenses. He figured the best thing to do was to be cleanly, so he cleaned his armor and under-clothing, bathed in sweet-smelling water that had been prepared for him by the Queen's maids, and attempted, although this word must be stressed, to groom himself. However, when his wild mane refused to yield, he relented, simply allowing the mass of silver hair to stick up and around as it pleased.

Now standing before his bed, his armor, weapons, and accessories placed in front of him, the Warrior thought for a moment of what to wear. It seemed ridiculous, really, for him to be bothered by such things. But he did wish to honor the King for his kindness, and thus he felt a need to exercise proper edict.

Sighing, he scratched his head, shaking his head. Why do things like this need to be so complicated?

Giving in, he merely chose his usual wear, although he left his sword, shield, and helmet behind, along with his supplies. A banquet did not require such tools of war, right?

Conversely, he found it strange to leave such necessary equipment. Several times, even before leaving his room, he felt compelled to retrieve the items and continue to the banquet, but he forced himself to stay on his path.

This feast would currently give the Warrior a chance to cool down, release the tension that had been building inside of him. Perhaps he could request the King to send him on a dire journey to some foreign land not yet explored? Such a thought gave the Warrior a little bounce in his step. To be on the battlefield, to face against forces outnumbered and untamable, these were the things that gave the Warrior's mind ease, tension released with every swing and arch of the blade.

He was, after all, the Warrior of Light, a man practically built to fight. He knew nothing but conflict, understood nothing but conflict.

He understood his friends' love for a peaceful life. After all, Firion had wished for a world where the wild blooms could grow freely, never fearing the day they'd be crushed by military boots marching to war.

And yet he could not see himself in such a lifestyle. This wonderful peace had him on edge, waiting for the darkness to return. Though he would never speak it allowed, a small part of him wished for conflict to begin.

He brushed aside that foolish thought. Conflict was evil. It only brought terror and destruction to innocent lives, robbing mothers of their sons, children of their fathers. To wish for such a thing…

_"You don't wish an end to the fighting. You find pleasure in it, just as I do."_

The Warrior blinked. Sephiroth had said those very words to him, when he had come to Firion's aid after the latter lost the wild rose. He had pushed the taunt away, but now…

Was he correct? Did the Warrior enjoy conflict? Did he, in fact, relish in combat, like the fallen hero had?

The Warrior immediately shook his head. No, of course not. These anguish feelings are only there because of the mounting frustration of his lack of self and the need for purpose. He would find one, however. He would find one, and then all these feelings would finally abandon him.

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><p>The banquet had begun. The castle bustled with happy noises and excited chinwag, while guards stationed around the building kept watched. Clouds had begun to gather, almost blocking the moon from sight, although no guard paid it any mind. The forest behind them foretold nothing of the coming menace that perched upon a single tree.<p>

As it stood, staring out at the castle, its booted feet balanced on the treetop, its one visible eye, blood red and burning with an untold darkness, a single pentagram swirling in its eye. began to glow an unearthly, demonic light.

Red blood wiped around its cloaked form like snakes, its drenched capes already crusted over several times. The glow continued to intensify until it threw its head back and screeched to the sky, echoing across the plain.

It had begun.


	3. Ch II: Scarlet on the Gallery Walls

**One more inane Author's note:**** So I finally got back up to my original number. Fantastic. Now I can get on with my life and actually write some new stuff.**

**Warning:**** This chapter's gonna have some blood. And violence. Lots of violence. Half way through, I think. You've been warned.**

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><p><strong><em>-::Meaningless Existence::-<em>**

**_-:Chapter II – Scarlet on the Gallery Wall :-_**

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><p>The Warrior of Light looked up, pausing for a moment. He had been sitting at the large dining table in the great hall of Castle Cornelia, attempting to distract his mind from the dark thoughts that continued to creep into his mind when he heard, or at least thought he heard, a loud screech.<p>

Looking around, he noticed no one else had taken notice of the strange sound. But before he could ponder the noise any longer, the King rang a little bell by his side, standing up.

"Ladies and gentlemen," the King announced in a loud, booming voice, "I wish to dedicate this banquet to the man who not only rescued my youngest daughter, but also who has selflessly defended this place that is not yet his home." He gestured to the Warrior with a smile. Everyone around him began to clap, and the Warrior bowed his head, silver locks obscuring his face slightly, suddenly feeling incredibly awkward. He ought to have been expecting this, but being congratulated in public had never been his strong point.

The clapping stopped, and the Warrior peeked through his mane to see the King had raised his hand. Continuing, the King then stated, "This man, one without a name or a past, has come to my humble home, seeking nothing, only wishing to serve this kingdom to the best of his ability. We, that is, my wife and myself, and the entire kingdom, wish to pay him his dues for such actions."

A shout echoed from the crowd, "Here, here!" More repeated the cheer, with the King laughing jubilantly. Smiling widely, he declared, "I propose to offer my eldest daughter's hand in marriage to this man, offer him a new name and home, and a new future to look forward to!"

"Here, here!" Everyone raised their goblets and cheered again, smiling and laughing joyfully. The Warrior, however, did not even raise his head in acknowledgement. His mind was buzzing with thoughts of what the King had just suggested.

A hand, however, rested on his shoulder, breaking his thoughts, and he glanced over a bit, silver locks falling to the side to reveal Sarah's face smiling down at him.

"Well?" she asked with a cock of her head, in a friendly manner. "Do you plan on letting everyone drink their fill before giving your answer?"

The Warrior nearly choked. Everyone was now waiting patiently for him to give his answer, which he was sure they wished to hear a happy 'yes,' yet he found nothing inside him that would concede to such an act.

To marry the Princess. To be given a new name, a new identity. A home to call his own. A future to look forward to. Where these things not what he wished for?

No, he found himself thinking. It is not. The life of a royal was ill-suited for him in general, and the thought of being given a new identity . . ? The idea simply repulsed him.

Of course, he understood where everyone was coming from. They pitied him for his lack of memory, lack of who he was and where he came from. But he did not desire that pity, nor did he look for any favors because of his troubles.

If he were to claim a name, it would be his own, from his past.

If he were to claim a home, it would be where the ones he cared for dearly resided.

If he were to marry, and have a future to look forward to…? Well, he actually hadn't even considered either much.

Sighing, he stood up, looking at the happy faces around solemnly. Putting a hand to his breastplate, he began to speak, "Your Majesty, I—"

But he never got the chance to finish his statement. As soon as the words began to leave his mouth, his ears began to ring, and suddenly, the room began to shake.

The King toppled over, crying out, "What in the name of Bahamut!"

The Princess screamed, and grabbed hold of the Warrior, who merely wobbled side-to-side a bit, trying to keep his ground.

Another loud screech sounded. He gasped, his blue eyes widening. That was the noise he had heard earlier. So he hadn't been imagining it. An intense vibration he had only felt before facing off against Garland the second time shook his very core.

Turning to look at Sarah, he warned, "You'd best get to safety." The Princess merely looked at him as several guards flocked her and the royal family, along with other nobles to, hopefully, safety. He watched in silence, then reached instinctively for his sword, only to remember he had left it in his room with his shield and supplies, along with his helmet.

Without warning, the grand windows shattered into a million pieces, shards of glass propelled out into the hall, victims screaming as a severe wind blew in, bringing with it an even greater horror.

The Warrior of Light cried out as one mighty gust bellowed past him, sweeping him almost off his feet. Trying to keep his ground, he let out a gasp as wipe-like tentacles surged into the room, dark in color and snake-like in agility. They flew across the room, piercing several bystanders and fleeing guards and nobles, wailing as warm lifeblood poured from their abdominals, sickening noises of the dying filling the room. The tentacles sometimes took on the form of blades, slicing across shoulders and decapitating several guardsmen as they futilely attempted to rescue the victims pierced onto the spikes.

The Warrior himself nearly became a fellow victim, noticing just at the last second a speeding spike racing towards him. Quickly, he threw himself to the side, tucked and rolled into a ball as the spike made a U-turn and once more attempted to stab him.

It was hard rolling with such heavy armor, but the Warrior made due with what he could at the time. With no sword or shield at hand, he was helpless in fighting the tentacles. Reaching a wall, he unrolled himself and sprinted along the partition, ducking and leaping whenever the tentacles attempted to gore him.

"Help! Somebody help!" a guard bawled, bolting from three pointed tentacles. The Warrior heard those cries and raced towards the poor sentinel, his armor clanking loudly with every move. "Hang on, I'm coming!" the Warrior returned the call, and for a moment, the watchman looked relieved. But because of this relief, he lowered his guard, slowing his pace a bit. That was his ultimate downfall. No sooner had the Warrior made eye-contact with the lookout did the three spears hit their mark. One pierced through the man's skull, the other two shot into his stomach and leg. Organ fluid and plasma drained from the man's now lifeless corpse.

The Warrior could only stand and watch as the dark figure stepped into the room calmly, its long, tattered cloak whipping around its thin frame. A bolt of lightning glazed across the sky, and the Warrior's ears filled with the sound of thunder breaking through the air violently. When had this storm appeared? It seemed quiet only moments ago.

But everything faded from his mind when he noticed the bloody head of one of the guards clenched in the fiend's fist. Tossing the head aside like garbage, the thing stepped towards him, dripping wet from the rain that now barreled down from the heavens above.

Eyes narrowed, energy and the power of light surging through his body, the nameless knight in turn approached the monster from the storm. Eyes locked, the Warrior's intense aqua-marine, the enemy's glowing scarlet.

The Warrior examined his foe, watching how the cape bellowed around the thing's stature, a slim built with perhaps little body armor. The thing's head was covered in the cloak as well, revealing only one ruby eye, shining with damned power of hell itself, although oddly with a pentagram symbol in the center. He took notice of the weapon in its other hand, a large, wicked scythe that dripped with the blood of its other victims.

Another streak of lightning shot across the sky, and, in a moment of shock, the Warrior realized now that the thing standing before him was dripping in _blood,_ not water.

Abruptly uttering a hiss, the monster shot forward, swinging its great blade towards the Warrior. Swiftly, he snatched up a discarded sword from the ground, its blade dripping in fresh blood. Prepared for such an attack, the Warrior met the fiend's blade with his own, however, staggering under the sheer force of the brute's might. As small as this creature was, its power was immense, enough to have the Warrior's arms shaking under pressure.

Grinding his teeth, the Warrior gave a jerk, shoving the giant scythe aside with his sword. The creature gave another disgusting hiss, releasing one hand from the scythe's hand, only to hold it out, blood swirling in a violent maelstrom, a strange, glowing pentagram floating in the middle. Pebble-sized blood drops formed in the whirlpool before being projected out at the Warrior. He was reminded of Squall's gunblade firing, what he called, 'bullets'. These 'blood-bullets' behaved similarly, and thankfully, the Warrior had had some experience fighting such weaponry, and thus, did the most sensible thing to do: run.

His feet carried all the way to the other side. Once there, with him facing the wall, he jolted to the left, barely missing the bullets as they flew at high speed. The Warrior continued to flee from the bullets, listening as they popped right behind him when they suddenly stopped. Turning to look, he noticed that there was no longer any blood raining down on him.

Until he heard the rapid popping noise again, this time coming from in front of him. Jerking his head back, he saw the red pellets rocketing towards him. He cried out at the first few impacts, the stone-like projectiles impaling through his armor, ripping through flesh, tendons, ligaments, and marrow before promptly exiting his body on the other side.

The second wave came just as quickly as the first, this one with far more grotesque results than before. Pain fired throughout the Warrior's already broken body, with one single slug exploding in his left eye, the cornea bursting like a balloon, vitreous fluid and blood splattering out in one huge gnash.

Screaming, the Warrior took his left hand and covered his eyeless lid. He could still feel the bullet in his socket, and it seemed to swirl and slush around in the void. With his remaining eye, he glanced over to where the fiend had last stood, but he was shocked to find the thing had somehow decreased the distance between them rapidly, now hovering over him, like a predator cornering its prey. With a low raspy breath, the monster grabbed him by his collar and threw him up slightly. Airborne, the monster then flung its free arm out, slapping the Warrior's throat and pinning him helplessly to a wall.

Both arms hung loosely to each side, the Warrior's left eye sealed shut, he strained to see the fiend through a half-opened lid. Suddenly, he coughed, the creature's hand slowly crushing his windpipe. Through the corner of his blue eye, the Warrior noticed movement. At first, relief made his frantic heart steady itself, until he realized what the source of the movements were.

Zombies. Moving corpses. The guards and other victims of the monster's attack had risen from the grave, their torn and bloodied carcasses slowly moving towards the two. They were hideous things, more so than the monsters he had faced before. Their skin had completely peeled off, revealing organs, muscles, and blood. Some had protruding ribcages, appearing like gaping mouths ready to feed. Others had twisted limbs that had taken new shape, in the forms of scythes, hammers, or bizarre contrivances he had not known about.

And as he looked back at the gruesome red eye of his foe, the Warrior of Light felt his own inner power fade. His body ached, his mind was numb. He could no longer feel certain parts of him. Life, as he knew it, was over.

No…he thought. It can't end like this. My past, my name…I've yet to learn what they are…I can't let it end…I just can't…

But as much will as he could put into his limbs, begging for one of them to move, nothing responded. It was if the gods themselves had abandoned him. It truly was over.

…However, some other force had a different plan for him.

_(What a truly horrific scene.)_

_What?_ The Warrior blinked. That voice was not his. Was it…the monster's?

_(Death is all around you…But you don't really care, do you?)_

_What do you mean?_ the Warrior demanded within his mind.

_(Life, freedom, memories, none of that matters.)_

_You're wrong_, the Warrior snapped. _Those are the very things that keep me alive, allowing me to move forward every day._

_(Yet none of those help you here. You are helpless, lost to eternity for fantasies you can never reach.)_

_That's not true!_

_(Don't lie to yourself. You know it's true.)_ Something dark and monstrous filled his mind_. (You have power. The world is yours to toy with. Just release it. Open up. Destroy.)_

_(Kill everything.)_

And just like that, the Warrior of Light's whole world came crumbling down.


	4. Ch III: His Zenith Realized

**A completely unnecessary Author's note that should not be ignored:** **Okay, so I finally updated after, what, a little over a month? Geez, time sure can fly. But, whatever.**

**Okay, so for those of you who have been waiting for an update, I strongly recommend you read the last three chapters. You've probably noticed that this story is now rated M. I changed some things. Redid the chapters so they're longer and hopefully more professional. My reasoning is in the first chapter. So go on and read. Otherwise this chapter will seem a bit confusing, what with the details, like zombies… Oh, wait, that was a spoiler, wasn't it? XD**

**A VERY IMPORTANT ANNOUNCEMENT:**** HIRING, I need a willing beta-reader who can go over this fanfic and give me feedback. Remember my ambitions on the first chapter? I need help in order to do that.**

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><p><em>-::Meaningless Existence::-<em>

_-:Chapter III – His Zenith Realized:-_

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><p><em>(Release it. Open up. Kill. Everything.)<em>

Those were the words the Warrior heard before everything began to crumble. His vision, already partly lost, blurred and distorted, as if he were looking through a foggy lens of a scrying pool.

He could still make out the monster holding him in place, the undead beasts shifting behind it. He still had his hearing, although it was muffled, feeling like someone had placed wool in his ears. And that wasn't the strangest part.

He couldn't move his body. He could feel his body, sure, but controlling it was a different story. It felt like he was trapped in a dark cave, floating helplessly in a void while something more powerful than himself took control.

The scene before him was a nightmare. But whatever this strange force was, it had an even greater nightmarish vision in store for him.

Oh, if he only knew.

The beast holding him to the wall hesitated a bit. It cocked its head, and then squinted its one eye at him. It seemed to be confused, unsure of what to do next. The Warrior's facial expression was completely relaxed, not stern or in agony.

That's when the dark force took over. He felt the darkness creep all around him, starting to laugh hysterically. A chill ran down his back as he realized that laughter was using his voice. It sounded just like him, only deranged, crazed…

Bloody-thirty.

_"Weakling."_

The Warrior gasped as he felt his left eye open, the cornea restored, the eyeball fully healed. An intense fire burned within it, though, and the Warrior could only helplessly watch as this fiery energy released itself in a lightning-fast, red-colored beam. The victims of this attack, two headless zombies with gapping mouths on their chests, shrieked as the beam flashed through them, imploding their corpses, and then decimated them completely.

_"Your molecules will scatter like sand."_

The monster holding him hissed loudly, releasing him immediately. The Warrior's body fell to the floor, completely motionless. The other zombies seemed to be unaware of the fate of their allies, as they kept creeping closely with each moan and growl.

Then another surprise burst forth. A small group of knights, led by Garland himself, stormed into the room. The former renegade knight inhaled sharply at the sight before him.

"What is going on here?" the knight bellowed.

The taunting Voice returned. _"What am I to you?"_

Garland turned around, looking side-to-side. "Who said that? Show yourself, you coward!"

_"Coward, fool, monster, fiend. Call me what you will!"_ The Voice then began to laugh darkly once more.

A knight took a shaky step back. "Wh-what's going on here, sir?"

Garland growled. "I'm getting to the bottom of this." He heaved his large sword up, narrowing his eyes underneath the helmet. "But first, we must knock down all these monstrosities before they injure anyone."

"Yes, sir!"

_"Meaningless. It's all meaningless."_

_That voice again_, Garland thought. He glanced to where he noticed the Warrior of Light slowly removing himself from the ground. A zombie was slowly crawling towards him, its misshapen arms reaching out to him as its gaping mouth drooled bodily fluids. Garland was about to shout a warning to the Warrior when, without warning, the man was on his feet and holding the creature's skull in its hand.

Something was wrong. The Warrior had glowing red eyes, pentagram stars embodied around the pupils and a dark, sinister grin on his face, one only a madman wore just before a kill. The grin widened slightly as the disembodied Voice from before spoke again.

_"I create nothing, forgive nothing, save nothing. I just erase."_

The zombie gave one final cry before its body ruptured into ashes, organs, limbs, and muscles shattering into dust.

_"Completely."_

One knight cried out in horror, "H-he's a monster!"

Another one joined him, swatting away a zombie with his blade. "We have to get out of here! He's gone mad!"

"Stay where you are!" Garland commanded. "That's an order." But his words were cut off by his men screaming. The Warrior hadn't moved, only turning his head. The Voice continued to speak as Garland watched in disbelief as both the zombies and his men were suddenly slaughtered before his eyes.

_"Break. Destroy. Shatter. Crush. Annihilate and ravage."_

The bodies of both friend and foe alike were destroyed like the first victim. Bones shattered, tissues crushed, bodies broke and eliminated just like that. Residue of the murdered barely fluttered in the air, leaving only cinders that once formed people. And while this was happening, the Warrior kept that dark, malevolence smile on his bloodied face.

Garland was beside himself. He had seen the Warrior in action before, but never like this. What on Earth happened to him? _What is going on here? _he pondered angrily.

The Warrior broke Garland's thoughts when he raised his right hand into the air. A pentagram floated above his palm, and a maelstrom of crimson light burned in his hand. _"Erase existence."_

The light in his palm changed into a beam, and once more, everything caught in its path disappeared in a violent explosion of gore. Garland hardly had time to dodge the blast himself, but he managed, hiding behind the doorway he had previously burst through.

Red light filled the room. Men and zombies alike collapsed in on themselves, their remains making sickening noises as they were destroyed. Blood splashed onto the walls, the only sign of what had happened. Not even their ashes remained. Just empty void.

The screaming then stopped, and then there was nothing. Garland closed his eyes. _Rest in peace, soldiers, _he thought, putting a hand to his chest-plate. His hand shaking angrily, Garland then returned to the room, his large sword leading the way.

"Warrior of Light!" he shouted, his armored frame properly blocking the door. "Explain yourself!"

But nothing happened. Garland saw the Warrior of Light was staring down the dark creature in a cloak. The creature was hissing, shaking violently while wielding a scythe that mirrored Garland's sword-size.

_Damnation, _Garland thought. _I had forgotten about that one._ He stood at the ready, preparing for the worst. If he were to die today, he would die fighting for his men and kingdom.

However, it seemed he might be spared for another day. The monster in red moved first. It charged at the Warrior, who made no movements, just keeping his head bowed. Then, he looked up, leering at the fiend with glowing pentagram symbols floating off the corneas of his once-aqua-marine eyes.

The creature curled up, taking the beam head-on. Through the smoke, it emerged unscathed, howling with rage. Garland growled to himself. _I'm in the middle of war of monsters, _he thought. He glanced quickly around. Nothing remained. No life could be seen, just blood drenching the walls and rugs of the ballroom.

_If I am to do the most good for my men, _Garland stated to himself, _then I must warn the King. If those two were to fight in the town…_ Garland didn't want to think about that anymore.

Backing quickly out of the room, he then turned tail and ran. He must deliver the message or otherwise the entire kingdom was doomed. But once he told the King what was happening…

_I'll knock them both down._

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><p>Inside the room, the fiend and the Warrior faced squarely off against each other. The red beams kept coming, and yet the fiend was not affected. It moved out of the way, sometimes, while other times it simply took the hit. The fiend didn't seem to slow down, speed never lessening.<p>

The Warrior did not let up either. In a blink of an eye, he disappeared, and then reappeared in front of the monster. It gave a squeak before being grabbed by the throat, an action echoing from the first battle.

The Warrior grinned. _"You're dangerous. You need to die."_ Suddenly, his eyelids began to twitch.

The creature gave a low hiss, squirming in his death grip. The Warrior felt his lids attempting to shut. He groaned. _"No… My eyes… They're closing…"_

The red monster gave a loud, rapturous roar before blood flew from its arm, snapping like whips at the Warrior's face. He cried out, staggering, all the while releasing the scarlet beast. Landing cat-like on its feet, the beast shot up into the air.

The Warrior jerked his head up, pentagrams spinning. _"You will not escape!"_ He threw up his hand, and another red beam blasted from the pentagram implanted on his palm. The beast, nevertheless, managed to dodge the blast, docking in front of the windowless frame that once held a beautiful stain-glass figure. Turning, the creature glared with a hiss before jumping into the rain.

The Warrior stood there, still. His glowing eyes were fading, the baleful light flickering with every twitch he experienced. Finally, he sighed, the red changing to blue once more, both eyes closing as he stumbled and fell back onto his back.

The last thing he remembered before fainting was the strident jangling of metal on metal as guardsmen and knights surrounded him at all sides, prattling voices shrill and commanding. Then nothing.

Garland bowed before the King in the throne room. His Majesty's robes were disheveled, and his queen's normally neat-pressed hair was struggling to free themselves from her pins.

"Your Highness," the stalwart droned, head low, "we have captured the Warrior of Light, as you commanded. He is being placed in the dungeon until further orders."

"Thank you, Garland." The King sighed deeply. "Truly, this is a day to remember."

The Queen looked at him uncertainly. "My love, what do you mean to do with the Warrior once he regains consciousness?"

The King gave a dismissively, impatient wave of the hand. "The Warrior is a threat. I must deal with him as such. When he awakes, he will find himself facing guards and an interrogator, who will then extract as much information as we can from him."

"The Warrior's a good man," the Queen reasoned. "Why must you treat him like some monster?"

"Because he is!" the King snapped.

Garland cleared his throat. "If I may, Your Majesty?" The King gave a slow nod. The Queen watched him carefully as the knight began.

"Your Highness, the Warrior of Light is indeed a good man. So is your husband. What happened today was a tragedy of untold proportions. Many people have died, including civilians and a few nobles. Because of this, your husband behaved in a reasonable manner, sealing the Warrior away until we can learn the truth of what just occurred today."

"You should have captured that monster!" the Queen stated sternly. "The Warrior may not have had anything to do with—"

"He killed my men, Your Highness," Garland exposed. "I doubt he and the fiend were in collaboration with each other, but if this kind of behavior were to appear again, but in the town…"

"Unspeakable horrors will occur," the King finished. He looked kindly at his wife. "Please try and understand, my dear. I truly care for the Warrior. I almost think of him as my own son. But it is as Garland said. I'm taking necessary precautions. For your safety, for our kingdom's safety, and our daughters'."

The Queen exhaled slowly. "Very well, then. Do as you will. Still, be gentle with him. I, too, consider him like a son."

The King gave a relieved smile. "And I will, wife." He glanced at Garland. "Check on the Warrior. See if he has awoken yet."

Garland bowed. "As you wish, Your Majesty."

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><p>In the village under Cornelia's shadow, a girl wearing a white cloak trekked through the town, her hood covering her lavender hair. Blue eyes looking up and around, she paused in front of a man, asking, "Hey, mister, did you, by any chance, see a guy. 'Bout…" She held her hand high above her head, moving up to her toes and waving the air under her outreaching hand. "Yea tall, has long silver hair that looks like he just got out of bed, a helmet with horns, wears armor, doesn't have a name…"<p>

The man nodded. "Oh, yeah. He currently resigned in Castle Cornelia as one of the King's best knights. He's not an official knight, granted, but everyone here thinks he's the best. Better than Garland, even."

The girl arched an eyebrow. "Garland? He's here, too?" The man gave her a confused look, but the girl tapped her chin before her lips broke into a wide grin. "Okay! Thanks, buddy! I'll be heading to the castle now!"

"Your welcome?" The man scratched his head before laughing a sigh. What a strange child.

As the girl ran towards the castle, her hood lifted off, revealing two, pointed ears. Giggling to herself, she murmured, "Found you. Now you're mine this time!"

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><p><strong>Okay, now that's done. On to bigger and better things.<strong>


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